


The Children Are Listening

by blue_pointer



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Animal Transformation, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Escape, Game of Thrones spoilers, House Stark, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Red Wedding, Riverlands, eat the Lannisters, winteriron, winteriron is coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 02:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer
Summary: After the execution of Ned Stark and the Sacking of Winterfell, Tony Stark is one of the last two remaining Stark heirs. Arriving at the Twins just after the Red Wedding, he finds an unlikely ally in the forest. But why does he want Tony to travel beyond the Wall? And what are these untrained powers he speaks of?





	The Children Are Listening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mitochondrials](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitochondrials/gifts).



> This is my final key in the current winteriron discord server fic exchange. Mitochondrials asked for werewolf Tony, and this fic was born. I never set out to write a SoIaF crossover. But these things happen. 
> 
> This story is for Marvel fans, not Game of Thrones fans. Just to be clear.

“King in the North!” the soldiers shouted. “King in the North!” 

Tony choked back a sob, ducking back into the brush from whence he’d been about to emerge. This was no wedding celebration. This was a massacre.

The Frey soldiers stepped over slain Stark men in the bloody field as they paraded the grotesquerie around camp, Grey Wind’s severed head roughly sewn to Robb’s headless corpse.

Tony gripped his smithing hammer, blinking away tears. He was going to kill them. All of them.

But how? Alone? That was madness, and he knew it.

He turned, stumbling back into the woods before any of the Freys came close enough to spot him. Where was the weirwood? There had to be one....they were so far south, but there just had to be. This was an occasion that called for the old gods like no other.  

In the darkness, it was so hard to see. Finally, exhausted and sick from crying, Tony fell to his knees before a large oak. He drew his dagger, cutting a face into its bark. And then he prayed.

Tony had never been one for religion, for the family tradition of unverifiable superstitions related to the legends of the First Men. But this was not a time for logic and science. This was a time of raw emotion, when his intellect was eclipsed by the need for vengeance.

A wolf howled in the near distance, and he opened his eyes. Could it be? Had his prayer been answered? Or was he about to be eaten by the local apex predator?

A large wolf emerged from behind a tree two heartbeats away. It stopped, just watching him. Was it possible? “Dummy?” he called to it. The odds of it being his direwolf were slim to none, even less that it would still remember him after all this time.

The wolf turned and beat a path through the underbrush. Feeling as though he were in a dream, Tony followed. They made their way northeast, away from the Twins, away from the Green Fork. He could see the kingsroad from the trees by the end, but the wolf stopped. Lannister colors were everywhere. The nearest village was on fire. Cart after cart lay overturned on the road, their owners dead in the mud, goods looted.

Tony backed away and followed the wolf deeper under the cover of the trees. It crawled through a small hole beneath a fallen tree, and Tony followed; the wolf hadn’t eaten him so far. Inside was a dry, snug den. The wolf curled up to sleep, and, warily, Tony did, too. He was bone-tired. The wolf snuggled close, and Tony used its fur for his pillow. It reminded him of home, and he fell into an exhausted sleep.

~

Tony awoke to the feel of a tongue on his face. Had he been crying in his sleep? When he opened his eyes, something was wrong. It was dark, but he could tell the difference between a wolf and a man even in bad lighting.

“Did you…?” He reached up and felt his cheek, which was still damp. “Did you lick my face?”

The man just stared at him, blue eyes almost glowing in the dimness. “We should keep moving.” The man’s voice was soft, but not gentle, almost like his throat was sore. Almost. His voice wasn’t gravelly, it was...sandy?

Tony found himself touching the man’s face. “Is this a dream?”

In answer, the man leaned down and nipped his shoulder. “Does that feel like a dream?”

_ Well...no. _ But also yes. He was trapped in this tiny enclosed space with a naked man who gently bit him in answer to a question. How was that not a dream? Tony watched the man turn around in the cramped space and crawl back under the rotting log. He couldn’t not stare at the bare buttocks wriggling away. Tony reached out again, but just stopped himself from touching them.

Once the man was out, he supposed it was his turn. Tony followed much less gracefully, then stood and stared. “I can’t travel with you like this.”

The man crouched on the ground, rubbing himself with mud. He looked up, genuinely surprised. “No?”

“No.” Tony shook his head. “You have to put clothes on.”

The man stood, looking thoughtfully at Tony. “I don’t have clothes.”

“What do you mean you don’t have clothes?” Tony asked, disbelieving.

“I don’t need them.”

Tony gave him a long look, up and down. Well, perhaps he didn’t. But they’d never make their destination without drawing attention to themselves if he didn’t put clothes on. “Wait here.”

Tony walked to the road, where a farmer’s family lay slaughtered next to their empty market cart. He peeled the clothes off of the father and came back to where the man waited, alert but patient. “Put these on.”

“Those smell,” the man said.

“So do you. Put them on.”

The man didn’t look happy about it, but he grudgingly pulled the soiled clothes on, rubbing extra mud on the trousers first. “I think you’re insane,” Tony told him, stalking off through the brush.

“I think you have no manners,” the strange man said, giving Tony’s arse a hard pinch as he passed him to take the lead.

Tony followed, rubbing his sore bum, feeling both annoyed and aroused. Who was this man? Should he be asking more questions?

They were traveling north. Home. Or what was left of it. But, no, North was also toward James and the Night’s Watch. James would know what to do; he’d be safe at the Wall. 

Thinking about James made him think of everyone else. Gone. All gone. He and Pepper were the only two Starks left. Tony began to cry--he thought--softly, following the mud man through the woods.

The man turned suddenly, looking at Tony in that quiet, intense way. “What’s wrong with your face?”

_ Rude. _ “What’s wrong with  **yours** ?” Tony shot back, scrubbing at his cheeks.

The man reached up, as if seriously considering Tony’s question. “It’s flat.” He moved his fingers across his own face, as if touching a foreign object. “The nose and ears don’t work, the teeth are dull, and the tongue...distracting.” The man seemed satisfied with his own answer, turning and continuing through the woods again.

“You are mad,” Tony grumped, still following along. “Anyway….” He sped up to walk beside the man instead of behind him. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m not helping you.”

Tony stopped. “You’re luring me into a trap?”

“No.” The man stopped, waiting for him.

“Then what?”

“I’m just the messenger.”

Tony squinted. “So what’s the message?”

“Come with me, and you’ll hear it.”

Tony snorted. “Why would I do that?” He wanted to ask ‘how stupid do you think I am?’ but the time for that had probably passed, considering he’d been following the stranger all morning.

“Because you want to learn how to use your powers.” The man turned and began walking again.

Tony glanced down at the hammer hanging from his belt. “What powers?” He followed the man, trying to stay within earshot.

“All of them.” The man did not turn around.

“You’re making it up.”

“I don’t make anything.” He glanced at Tony over his shoulder. “I’m just the messenger.”

Tony stopped, planting his feet. “So where are you taking me?”

“Beyond the Wall.” The man was not waiting. Why was he not waiting?

“Beyond the Wall? That’s suicide! I’m not going beyond the Wall!”

“Yes you are.” The man’s voice was getting harder to hear, so Tony begrudgingly started to follow again.

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are.”

“Am not!”

“You are.”

How could the man be so calm when he was teasing him? Tony rushed forward and grabbed the man’s hand. He started and pulled away when his fingers touched cold metal. “Is that..armor?”

“No.” Still walking.

Tony was frustrated. “Stop! I’m trying to talk to you!”

“I can hear you.”

“Why should I come with you?”

“Because you want revenge.” He did stop, then, and turned to look at Tony. “Don’t you? That’s what you prayed for.”

Tony recoiled, suspicious and feeling like his privacy had been violated. “You heard that?”

“It’s why I’m here.”

Tony threw up his hands. “Oh, right. The old gods heard my prayers and sent me a naked man. Right. Sure. That’s how it works.”

He couldn’t tell if the man was insulted by that, but he did turn and walk away. “Hey, stop.” Tony chased after him. “Wait. At least tell me your name.”

“I do not give my name so freely as you,” he said. “But my master calls me ‘Bucky.’”

“Bucky?” Tony wasn’t sure if he was serious. He wanted to laugh. But it died in his throat when those ice chip eyes looked down at him. “Alright. I guess I’ll call you Bucky.”

“What should I call you?” He pulled aside a long branch so that Tony could walk through without getting hit in the face.

Part of him wanted to be haughty and answer ‘Lord Stark!’ But. Then he thought of the Freys and their cheers of ‘king in the north!’ and he had only grief in his heart. “Tony, I guess.”

“Tony-I-guess.”

“No! Not I-guess. Just Tony.”

“Alright, Just Tony.”

Tony growled and stomped his feet, following, annoyed. But what else did he have to do? He’d missed a crucial motivating event in the storyline.

~

Tony soon found there were other unusual things about his guide apart from his inclination toward nudity and his complete lack of manners.

The first time they came upon a small party of Lannister men, he ate them. This was not Tony being creative in his description of the event, he literally ran out of the woods, killed them, and then began to eat their flesh and crack their bones to get at the marrow.

Tony felt sick. And terrified. He fled into the woods and ran until he couldn’t run anymore. When night fell, he collapsed. He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, it was dark. He got the eerie feeling he wasn’t alone. The wolf was back, and it was staring at him. Intensely.

Tony backed up against his tree-pillow. “Don’t eat me--I think I’m a vegetarian now.”  

The wolf was still just looking at him. It turned, and he could hear a tree branch snapping. Then it padded toward him, dropping a branch heavy with blackberries into his lap.

“You can understand me?” He was dreaming. He had to be.

The wolf waited for him to eat and then led him to a stream where he could drink. Tony spent the rest of the night following the mysterious creature north through the forest. Once again, they found a safe place before dawn and fell asleep together.

When Tony woke up, he already knew what he would see. So he kept his eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the impossible. Instead, he reached out with his hand and touched...fur. He opened his eyes, surprised, only to find his fingers were buried in the coarse hair covering Bucky’s groin. Those eerie eyes were just watching him.

“Oh. Heh. Sorry.” Tony gingerly withdrew his fingers, but before he could retreat, Bucky grabbed his wrist and slid on top of him. 

“Um, I didn’t really mean--” But his explanation was muffled by Bucky’s mouth on his. When he let Tony up for air, his stiff length was pressing against Tony’s hand, and Tony was embarrassingly aroused, himself.

“I can smell you,” Bucky growled, and kissed him again, aggressively, in the way Tony loved. They were grinding against each other and panting and kissing. At some point, Tony realized his fly was open, and that was better.

But apart from drowning in lust, something strange was happening. It felt less like sex, more like actual coupling in that they seemed to be melting into one another. After a few minutes, Tony wasn’t sure which one of them he was. And he didn’t care. They were both striving toward the same goal. He wanted to touch, to feel everything.

He cried out when he came, feeling the warmth spreading between them. Bucky came, too, sliding his cock between Tony’s thighs and thrusting until Tony felt hot come run between his legs. Then they curled together and slept.

It was night when Tony awoke once more. He could smell Bucky nearby, hear the tiny rustlings of small mammals digging in for the night, feel the call of the moon. He crawled out of their den and stood up on four legs. Bucky was there, waiting for him. Looking at him with that intensity he had in both forms. He padded closer, snapped playfully at Tony until he rolled over and showed his belly.

Bucky licked his nose.  _ I think you look better in this skin. _

Tony whined until Bucky gripped him by the throat and mounted him, and they coupled again. This was a dream. But he loved this dream.


End file.
